


Dead Hearts (are everywhere)

by HeylelAndGoldenWings



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, First Kiss, Fluff, He mentions wanting to many times, He never actually attempts to kill himself though, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony REALLY wants to die, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony kinda freaks out and punches shit, Torture, it isn't all angst, please heed the warnings, so I guess that counts as self-harm, there's some fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 16:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15146792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeylelAndGoldenWings/pseuds/HeylelAndGoldenWings
Summary: Tony and Bucky form an (un)likely friendship after the death of Steve.(title is a reference to the song Dead Hearts by Stars)Please heed the warnings.





	Dead Hearts (are everywhere)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I know this isn't very good, but I would appreciate comments and kudos. Thank you for all your support...

Tony stares at his hands.  They’re dripping with thick, sticky liquid. Blood.  _ Steve’s  _ blood.  All he can do is look at the lifeless form of his sometimes-lover, sometimes-friend, but mostly teammate.  

 

“Steve,” he croaks, shaking fingers curling up against Steve’s uniform.  “Steve, come on. Wake up. You know- you know there’s still work to do.  The situation is still heading south. You- you can’t ignore it. Not this time. Wake up, wake up, no, no, no, no.”

 

A gentle hand is placed on Tony’s shoulder.  “Tony, he’s gone. Steve made his choice. Now it’s time to make yours.  Get up and fight, or mourn over somebody who isn’t coming back.”

 

After a long moment, Tony stands, a gurgling scream building in the back of his throat.  Steve is gone, but the others aren’t. Not yet.

 

***

 

The look in his eyes.

 

Steve hadn’t looked scared, or angry.

 

He had looked relieved.  Trusting.

 

_ “Go get ‘em, Tony,” he had said.  “Go get that motherfucker.” _

 

_ “Language,” Tony had managed.   _

 

_ Steve smiled,  and then the light faded from his eyes, and he was gone. _

 

Tony awakes with a choked gasp, hands wrapped in white sheets.  He takes in the surroundings around him- a chair, a TV, flourescent lights; before he realizes- he’s at a hospital.  He vaguely remembers falling (a whole lot of falling) and searing pain. And then the world went dark, and he had thought… maybe he was finally… 

 

“Hey,” a warm voice greets.  It’s familiar, but not in a good way.  “You’ve been asleep for a while. Nat and Clint wanted to be here when you woke up, but they went to eat.”

 

“Rogers?” Tony asks, voice broken and desperate.  “Where’s Rogers? Where’s S-Steve?”

 

“Oh, Tony,” Bucky sighs, reaching his flesh hand out.  He intertwines their fingers before Tony can object, eyes wet with the same grief that Tony feels.  “I think you know where Stevie is.”

 

Tony doesn’t want to think about that right now.  In fact, he doesn’t ever want to have  _ that  _ conversation.  He lays his head back against the pillow, eyes drifting shut for a moment.  

  
“Don’t fall back asleep, Tony.”

 

“Why does it matter to you?” Tony asks, venom creeping into his voice.  This is Bucky, after all. Bucky who killed his mom. Bucky who stole Steve.  

 

“Because I’m Bucky Barnes,” Bucky says easily, and Tony can hear the smile in his voice.  “Not the Winter Soldier.” 

 

Tony falls asleep anyway, but he’s grateful for the company.  Not like he’d ever admit it.

 

***

 

Tony is released from the hospital later that week. After a walk around New York, he heads to the only place he can think would even make him remotely content.

 

Tony wanders into the Avengers facility, expecting to find it empty.

 

It’s not.  Bucky and Natasha are their, beer in their hands and smiles on their faces.  “Let’s get you drunk, pal,” Bucky says with a mischievous smirk, tossing Tony a bottle.  Tony catches it after fumbling the glass around for a second, and takes a seat by himself, as far away from Barnes as he can get.  

 

***

Tony slams his fists against the door.  His face twists into a grimace, and he lets out a loud sob.  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I loved you. I loved you.  I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he gasps, and watches, almost amused, as blood rolls from his knuckles.  “I’m sorry,” he repeats, thrusting his fists again and again, welcoming the pain like an old friend.

 

He’s pulled away from the door.  Tony lets out a weak whine of protest.  No, no, no.

 

“Tony, I think it’s time to go to bed, huh?”

 

Tony wants to punch Barnes.  He hates him. He hates him so much.

 

***

Tony watches Barnes closely.  He’s nursing a beer, eyes closed.  Tony thinks he might be crying. Wait, no- he knows Barnes is crying.  He can see how the super soldier's shoulders shake. 

 

“Hey,” Tony greets gently.  “Bucky,” he says, and it feels nice on his tongue.  To use his first name. 

 

“Finally out of your workshop,” Bucky observes, voice somehow steady.  “Come sit. I could use the company.”

 

Tony hesitates.  He still doesn’t really trust Bucky.  Bucky is Bucky, after all. He’s dangerous.  Even so, Tony takes a few steps forward and then takes a seat on the couch.  He’s at the other end of the couch, but it’s progress.

 

“Steve always felt bad, y’know.”

 

Tony doesn’t answer.  His bottom lip quivers, but Tony knows he’s not going to start crying. He refuses to show Barnes anymore weakness.

 

“He didn’t mean to break your heart.  He loved you.”

  
“He just loved you more,” Tony whispers, rubbing a hand over his eyes. 

 

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, voice drenched with sorrow.  “Yeah, I guess the punk did.”

 

Tony can’t do this.  He stands, and runs to his room, like the coward he is.

 

***

Everybody but Tony is laughing.  He knows he sticks out like a sore, but he can’t bring himself to feel simple pleasure like that.  Not when Steve’s death is so fresh in his mind. 

 

His thoughts do buzz with something else, though- happiness, maybe.  Because, for the first time, the team looks happy. Thor’s eyes are wide like a puppy, and his lips are quirked into a smile.  Bucky is a little more timid, but he’s got the beginnings of a grin on his face, too. Natasha and Clint are full-out laughing, and Bruce looks proud.  Strange has a twinkle in his eyes, like he wants to laugh, but is just too professional to do so. Peter is asleep, but he looks at peace. 

 

This is nice, Tony realizes. It’s been a while since things have been nice, but this is, and he relaxes for the first time in a long time, watching his team with calm eyes. 

 

He shakes Peter awake, and escorts him back to his room. (Peter shares a floor with Aunt May, who is, probably, fast asleep.). 

 

Tony can feel the others watching him, maybe with fondness, maybe with distrust. He doesn’t really care, because Peter’s smiling and looking up at Tony like he saved the world. 

 

And for the first time, Tony thinks that maybe he kind of did save the world. 

 

***

If Tony had to compare it to anything, it would be like eating cake. You really want to the cake. It looks amazing, mouth-wateringly delicious. But you know it’s bad for you. 

 

That’s what death is like for Tony Stark. He wants to die. He  _ wants to off himself.   _ But he knows he can’t, because it isn’t healthy. 

 

Tony combs a hand through his hair, staring himself in the mirror. He looks tired, barely recognizable. He splashes some water in his face, and then forces a smile. 

 

No, today he can’t kill himself. Not when last night everything had been so good. 

 

Someday, though.  

 

Someday he’ll think up an excuse. 

 

***

 

Bucky hasn’t spoken to him since the night that they discussed Steve, so it comes as a welcome surprise to Tony when Bucky comes stomping into the workshop with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. 

 

“Our dearest Clint made cookies. They taste shockingly good. Care to try one? And no, you don’t have a choice.”  Bucky gives him an award-winning smile, holding up a chocolate chip cookie. 

 

Tony takes it, purposely not looking at Bucky, then nibbles a bit off the top. It tastes amazing, holy shit. He eats the rest of it in seconds. “Clint is a good cook,” he praises, lips twitching upward. “Maybe him and Bruce could start a cooking show.”

 

“Not sure Bruce would be up for the stress of that, but I’ll let him know.”  Bucky places the milk down beside Tony. “You should drink something. Also, here.” He sets down another cookie, and Tony finally turns to him. 

 

“Oh,  _ wow,”  _ Tony breathes before he can stop himself. Bucky’s hair is pulled up into a loose bun, and oh Thor, he looks  _ good.  _

 

“Is it that bad? Natasha said it looked cute. I dunno. Steve would have liked it. That’s why I did it. It’s his birthday.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Tony murmurs, but there’s no bitterness in his voice. “I was making some… fireworks. It sounds dumb, but I thought we could use them tonight.”

 

“I’m sure the others will love that, Tony,” Bucky says sincerely. “I’ll let them know. Please come up for dinner. We miss seeing your face.  _ I  _ miss seeing your face.”

 

Tony grins when Bucky turns away. It’s his first real smile since Steve died. 

 

***

Later, they set off all the fireworks. Tony sits by Bucky, and not far away. He can practically feel Bucky radiating excitement. 

 

Something flutters in Tony’s chest. Maybe brotherly love. Maybe hope for a friendship. He doesn’t know, but he  _ does  _ know that he likes how happy and at-ease James Buchanan Barnes looks in these short, rare moments. 

 

***

 

Tony’s hand is resting on the small of Peter’s back.  Peter’s bouncing nervously up and down on the balls of his feet.  He’s only ever been to Wakanda once before. During that time, all Peter was able to do was fight.  Now, he’s going to be able to admire all that Wakanda truly has to offer.

 

And Shuri.  Tony thinks Peter might like Shuri.  Not in a romantic way- after all, Peter is lovestruck for MJ.  Tony knows, too, little did he like to admit, that Peter might also have a crush on Wade Wilson.  He doesn’t want to think about that, though.

 

Bucky bounds up to them, eyes sparkling with excitement.  “I promise you’re both going to like it.”

 

“Ah, I’m just excited for the competition,” Tony snickers. “I always have appreciated smart people.”

 

Bucky rolls his eyes fondly, reaching forward to place a hand on Tony’s shoulder.  Tony flinches away, and pretends not to notice the offended look Bucky sends him. 

 

When they land, Tony stumbles out of the jet like he’s a little kid again.  Peter follows him just as joyfully, gaze skimming the beautiful city. The last time they had been here, it had been half destroyed.  Now, it’s as it once was- fascinating, captivating, futuristic, and the works. 

 

Tony turns, looking for Bucky.  He relaxes when he sees the brunette- he’s hugging Shuri, looking more calm and relaxed then he has in a long, long time.  This, Tony realizes, makes himself feel better- why, he doesn’t know. He just likes to see his team at peace, he supposes.  It’s especially rare with Bucky. Probably because he was so close to Steve.

 

Peter, despite being a teenager, grabs Tony’s hand and gives it a squeeze.  It’s like he knows how much it hurts Tony to be here. 

 

Tony doesn’t think he’s ever appreciated Peter more.  He squeezes back, before pulling away, following Thor and Clint to… somewhere.  He’s not exactly sure where they’re going. Maybe Shuri’s lab- that seems like something Clint would want to fuck up. 

 

Tony jogs to catch up to them, slinging an arm over Clint’s shoulders.  “Hey, buddy. Wanna get drunk with me?”

 

“Damn right,” Clint responds, nodding enthusiastically.  “It’s been too long since I’ve been so hammered that I can’t see straight.  Anytime you want, I’ve gotcha, bro.”

 

Tony shakes his head, but his eyes smile.

 

***

  
  


Tony groans dramatically, sinking onto the couch.  He’s glad to be back home, but at the same time, his anxiety has come tumbling back at full force.  Being here reminds him too much of Steve. Being in Wakanda had been a break from all his responsibilities, and while, at the time, it had seemed dangerously boring, being back at the facility is like a stab in the good ol’ arc reactor.  

 

“I’m glad to be back,” Bucky voices Tony’s thoughts.  “I just wish Steve was here.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony agrees, scooching over to the left side as Bucky takes a seat on the right.  He can see the way Bucky’s eyelid twitches in annoyance, and something- maybe fear, probably his own annoyance- flickers in Tony’s chest.

 

“Tony, why do you always sit so far away from me?” Bucky finally asks, turning to look at Tony.  It’s like he can see straight through him. Tony squirms uncomfortably. He has the same look Natasha does when she’s trying to figure something out, and he doesn’t like that, not at all.  Mostly because Natasha always figures things out, and Bucky probably already knows the answer to the question he just asked.

 

“You killed my parents,” Tony says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.  Because it is.

 

“I was brainwashed,” Bucky objects, and reaches a hand out.  He doesn’t let Tony get away this time. He grabs Tony’s hand, gripping tight, but not too hard.  “I would never kill you, Tony.”

 

“But you almost did,” Tony reminds him gently.  He’s not mad that Bucky tried to. He is, however, kind of mad that he didn’t finish the job.  “And that’s not even why. I know you’re not going to kill me. God is just too cruel. Seems nobody has the brains to kill Tony fucking Stark, except maybe himself.”  Bucky stiffens at his words, and something in his eyes bursts, like a fiery explosion, to life- Bucky looks terrified. Tony stands on shaking legs, and wrenches his hand out of Bucky’s hold.  “I’m going to bed.”

 

“Nobody wants you dead, Tony,” Bucky calls after him, but Tony is already half asleep and chooses not to hear.

  
***

 

Somebody’s massaging his shoulders.  It’s probably Thor, so Tony doesn’t object, and doesn’t even spare the person a look.  He’s been down in his workshop for-fucking-ever. He’s pretty sure his hand is bleeding, but he doesn’t really want to look.  FRIDAY is on mute, which he’s grateful for. 

 

“Strange says he wants to talk to you.”

 

Oh.  Not Thor, then.  It’s Bucky. Tony is too sleep deprived to pull away, so he just kind of tenses.  “I told him I’d fetch you, but I think that since you haven’t been up since yesterday, you should sleep.”

 

Tony scoffs.  “I need to finish this, though.”

 

“No, doll.  You do not need to finish that.”  He pauses for a long moment. “FRIDAY wouldn’t let me in yesterday, you know?  I was worried.”

 

“I’m not going to kill myself, Bucky.  Just because I  _ can  _ and  _ want  _ doesn’t mean I’m going to.  No need to worry.”

 

“There is a need to worry.  What you literally just said goes to show that there is very much a need to worry- Tony, is that blood? What the fuck did you do?”

 

“Relax, I probably cut it on the chainsaw.”   
  


“Holy sh-”

  
“I’m joking.  I think it happened when I was testing something out earlier.  Nothing at all to do with chainsaws, Buck-o.”

“Tony, you’re so stupid sometimes.  Get up. C’mon. I’m going to bandage you up, and then, if I have to, I’m going to tie you to the fucking bed.”

 

“No need to get kinky, soldier,” Tony mumbles, but doesn't stand.  He doesn’t think he can without collapsing. (Only because he hasn’t slept.  Not because he’s lost too much blood.)

 

Bucky scoops him up.  Tony almost screams (he’ll never admit it).  He clutches to Bucky, afraid he’s going to fall.  “Oh my god,” Tony wheezes, and not in a ‘wow that was so funny’ way.  No, in more of a ‘holy shit I haven’t slept since a week ago and also I’m bleeding out, I can’t fucking breathe’ kind of way.  

 

“It’ll be okay, Tones,” Bucky whispers.

 

“I know that, dipshit,” Tony hisses, and then promptly passes the fuck out.

 

***

 

Tony comes to the next day, and freezes up when he feels a warm body pressed against him.  Suddenly all he can think about is that movie-  _ Warm Bodies  _ or whatever- and he’s giggling quietly to himself.  Sure, his hand hurts like a bitch, but what can a guy do?  He’ll take blessings where he can get them.

 

“God, Tony, shut up.”  Damn. It’s Bucky next to him.

 

“Says you,” Tony says, because he can’t think up a good comeback.  

 

“Go to sleep.”

 

“Ugh.”

 

***

 

Tony’s sitting across from Shuri and Peter, nodding along to what they have to say.  Shuri has got this devilish little smirk on her face, and Peter’s grinning from cheek to cheek. 

 

“Yes, yes,” he agrees, waving his uninjured hand.  “Listen, I have a lunch date with Bucky and Clint. There’s sandwiches in the fridge if you want them, and I think Bruce and Clint made pie.”  Tony winks at them, and then continues on to say, “don’t tell them I told you, though. It was supposed to be a surprise for tonight.”

 

“Are we going to have turkey?” Peter asks excitedly.  Gosh, you’d think the kid had never had an honest-to-God turkey dinner for Thanksgiving before in his life.  Thinking back on it, Tony hadn’t, either, until the Avengers became a team.

 

“Yeah,” Tony promises, standing up.  “You better make sure to leave some leftovers for lunch at school.”

 

Peter laughs, rolling his eyes.  “We both know that I’m not going back to school until Shuri and T’Challa leave.  I think all the turkey will be gone by then.”

 

“Fine, kid,” Tony says with false anger.  “You’ll just have to pack your own lunch when you go back.”  He reaches out and ruffles Peter’s hair, then pats Shuri on the shoulder.  He’s just about to leave when his phone buzzes in his pocket, and he yanks it out.  “Oh, fuck. I have to go. I’m late.”

 

Shuri and Peter both giggle wickedly as he sprints out of the building and to the car.

 

***

 

“You’re a dick,” Tony mutters, burying his face in his hands.  “You and Clint are both dicks.” 

 

Tony had gotten to the cab, finding only Bucky there.  Bucky had told him that Clint would be meeting them at the restaurant.  They had reached the restaurant. It took Tony ten minutes before he realized Clint wasn’t coming.  Bucky and him had  _ planned  _ this, the bastards.  

 

“I wanted to talk to you without the others listening in.”

 

Tony groans in response.  “I hate you. I hate that birdbrain.  Both of you can suck a dick.”

 

“That was sort of the plan,” Bucky jokes.  At least, Tony hopes he’s joking. Or maybe he doesn’t hope….   “Anyway, we need to have a real conversation. A  _ serious  _ conversation.”

 

“Oh, yuck.  Serious conversations are the bain of my existence.”  

 

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs.  He takes in a deep breath, before starting hesitantly, “I think maybe you should go to therapy.”   
  
“What the fuck?” Tony yelps.  “No fucking way. I’m perfectly fine.”

 

“You talk about suicide too much for it to be ‘fine’, Tony.”

 

“I won’t talk about it, then.  There! All better.” 

 

Tony can pretty much detect the way Bucky fills with anger before he hisses,  “Tony. I don’t think I can stand it if you die. You have to understand that we need you.”

  
No you don’t, Tony wants to say.  “Yeah, I know,” Tony agrees instead.  “I’m not gonna kill myself. Please drop it.  I want to have a nice lunch, and then I want to go home and be thankful for shit before it’s time to feast.”

 

Bucky shuts up, but Tony can tell it takes effort.

 

***

 

It’s midnight, but Tony isn’t tired at all.  He skips out of the elevator, sliding to the couch.  “Bucky, holy shit, wake up.”

 

Bucky grunts.  “I’ve been awake.  You’re loud.”

 

“Ah, no need to drown me with compliments, darling.”

 

“What do you want?”

 

“I want you to see something.  Come on. Get up.” Tony grips Bucky’s arm, tugging.  He leads him to the elevator and then down to the workshop.  At first Bucky doesn’t seem to understand, and then his eyes widen.

 

“That’s… that’s Stevie’s shield.”  His voice is soft, drenched with sorrow and disbelief.  “It can’t be. It was destroyed during the war.”

 

“I salvaged what I could,” Tony admits.  “It’s taken a long time to work out what goes where.  And then I had to find new material because some things were missing, and repaint it, and all that boring shit.  ‘S as good as new now. Figured you could keep it, since Steve loved ya and shit.”

 

“But Tony,” Bucky huffs, looking honestly confused.  “He loved you too. We should both keep it.”

 

“No, no.  It’s all yours.”

 

“I know where to put it,” Bucky decides aloud after a few seconds, and grabs it.

 

“Oh, okay.”  Tony follows him upstairs, watching as he slides onto his floor and into his room.  “G’night, Bucky,” he whispers, more to himself than Bucky. He knows Bucky can’t possibly hear him, but he finds himself wishing that Bucky could.

 

***

Tony nearly spits his coffee out.  

 

The shield is hanging in the living room, above the TV.

 

***

 

Tony struggles against the restraints.  He’s tied to a chair in the dark- he can’t see a damn thing.  His head hurts like a bitch, and he can feel something  _ stuck in his leg.   _ He screams, loud and desperate.   _ Bucky? Thor? Nat? Clint? Strange? Peter? Anybody? Please, please, please save me. _

  
  


“Nobody’s coming, Tony,” a silky voice reminds him.  “They’re going to leave you to die.” There’s a loud crash.  Tony flinches, the noise is too fucking loud. The lights flicker on.  Tony has to squeeze his eyes shut for a minute before he can open them, and even then his vision is blurry.  Tony looks up to see… himself. 

 

“They don’t care.  Maybe they used to, but now that Cap’s dead? Oh-ho.  Why would they care about a slut like you? Or, well… me, I guess.”  The other Tony giggles maniacally. 

 

“Stop,” Tony gasps, voice ragged and worn out.  “Stop. Stop. Stop.”

 

“You know they aren’t coming.  Just accept it. I’ll give you a choice.”  Other Tony smiles, almost sadly. “You can stab yourself with that knife, end the suffering.  End all the pain you’ve ever fault. Hell, you’ll even get to see our dear Steve again. Unless you go to hell. Or you can wait.  Wait with the knife stuck in you, wait with that awful, nasty concussion, wait for a team that doesn’t give a fuck.”

 

Tony knows what he  _ wants  _ to do, but Bucky’s words are fresh in his mind.   _ Tony.  I don’t think I can stand it if you die. _

 

“I’ll wait,” he snarls.  

 

***

 

And he does.  He waits. Maybe minutes, maybe hours, maybe days.  At some point, Other Tony had yanked the knife out of him and tied a piece of gauze around his leg, before cheerfully slicing it into his other leg.

 

Tony cries.  He cries like a baby, whimpering Bucky’s name over and over again.  He wants Bucky to come. He wants Bucky, Bucky, Bucky. Bucky might remind him of Steve in every bad way, but he also reminds Tony of Steve in every good way, too.  And it isn’t just that. Tony likes Bucky for  _ Bucky,  _ not just because he’s a reminder of Steve.

 

As Tony sits in the dark, battered and bruised, something registers in his mind.

 

He loves Bucky. He may give him hell, and act like Bucky is the devil… but he loves Bucky, maybe more than he has ever loved anyone.

 

***

 

Bucky finds Tony rocking back and forth, repeating his name over and over, sobbing without tears, dry heaving into his lap.

 

He unties Tony, and gets him to a hospital as fast as he can.

  
  


***

 

“You came for me,” is the first thing Tony says, voice catching in his throat.  “Bucky, you came for me.”

 

“Of course I did, doll.” Bucky strokes Tony’s head.  “I’ll always come get you.”

 

Tony’s eyes flutter shut.  “I thought you were going to leave me there to die.”

 

“I would never,” Bucky breathes, horrified.  The funny thing is, Tony kind of believes him.  

 

***

 

Tony doesn’t talk the first month he’s home.  At all. He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t lock himself up in the workshop, either.

 

After two months, he says things, but only to Bucky.

 

After three, he says more things, to everybody, but quietly and shy.  Anybody with a brain can tell he’s simply just… scared.

 

On the fourth, he smiles.

 

On the fifth, he laughs.

 

After six months, he limps into Bucky’s room.  His legs have never really been the same, and he can’t walk properly, but he kind of likes it that way. Battle scars or whatever.  Makes him look cool.

 

“Bucky,” he says, and flinches when his voice comes out shakey.  He clears his throat. “Bucky,” he says, louder. 

 

“Hey, doll,” Bucky greets, patting the open space on his bed.  “Come lay down.”

 

Tony shuffles over slowly, and clambers onto the bed.  He spends a long, long second just looking at Bucky- taking in every inch, from his sparkling eyes to his silky hair, to his stubble to his neck to his chest to his thighs. All the way down to his feet.  Every inch.

 

“Bucky,” he says again, and leans forward, connecting their lips.  


End file.
